


shine

by the_ragnarok



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: D/s, M/M, shoe shining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: "Mr. Reese," Harold says sharply. "You can't tell me you mean to go out like that?"





	

"Mr. Reese," Harold says sharply. "You can't tell me you mean to go out like that?"

John pauses. He looks down at himself. Rooney's suit sits as well on him as it usually does, if he says so himself - although really that's more a testament to Harold's skill at tailoring than to John's physique. "Is there a problem, Harold?"

"I'd say so, yes." Harold gets up from his chair and motions John to sit on the couch. "Your shoes are atrocious. Sit down, I'll shine them for you."

John frowns. "I can do this myself, you know. I was in the army and everything."

"Then you should know these are in nowhere near sufficient condition." Harold glares until John sits. Then Harold moves, creakily, to kneel at John's feet.

John starts to rise. "Maybe I should--"

"Sit," Harold says, perfectly even.

John sits.

Harold fetches a box from under the couch, opens it to reveal a round, unlabeled metal box and a brush.

"Were you keeping these just in case?" John asks, fascinated. 

"One must always be prepared for a polish emergency," Harold says, and opens the tin.

The way his hands move on John's shoes is hypnotizing; Harold doesn't waste motion. Seeing the shoes turn blacker and blacker is soothing, in its own way, and the phantom heat of Harold's hands through the leather makes John's breathing quicken.

Once Harold's put down John's shoes, he looks up, where John's pants no longer fit nearly as well. "So your shoes aren't all you've been neglecting," Harold says, disapproving. "I suppose I better see to that as well. Take off your pants."

John gets up to do so, unfastening the button with trembling hands. It's unfortunate that he'll probably never be able to smell boot polish again without getting hard.

Harold grips John's cock dispassionately, like he's measuring him for something; John's fractured thoughts of what kind of garment Harold might imagine for his dick are lost in the heat of Harold's mouth, the satisfied hum Harold makes around him.

"Please," John gasps. "Please."

Harold takes him out of his mouth, gently rubs the wet head of John's cock with his thumb as he says, "Yes, John. Of course you can," and John just manages to wait until he's back in Harold's mouth before coming and coming.

Afterwards, Harold graciously accepts John's hand up and putters back to his chair.

"Can I," John says, and runs out of words after those two, instead reaching out awkwardly to Harold.

Harold smiles at him, sweet and insufferably smug. "We'll have plenty of time when you're back. Have a good time, John."

John walks out still slightly dazed, hoping the walk to the event will clear his head. A smile's forming on his face, though. He had a feeling leaving his shoes unshined would pay off. Perhaps next time he'll intentionally spill wine on his pants and see what happens.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Polish Emergency](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931393) by [merionees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merionees/pseuds/merionees)




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